Chapter 17
Wicked
An epic battle raged inside Amy. While simultaneously trying to relax at one end of Shane’s couch, she struggled to contain her anger.
For the thousandth time, she focused her attention on yet another car chase unfolding on his humongous TV.
It wasn’t working. Maybe she should concentrate on getting lost in Paul Walker’s blue eyes instead, except …
well, he was dead, and that fact not only saddened her, but it shot her fantasy all to hell.
She had swapped her jeans for leggings and now sat with her legs tucked under her butt.
She looked casual enough, but it was an act.
Micky was out of her life, and she needed to get him out of her head.
Maybe she could do that by turning her attention to her host instead.
He was very much present, and she was acutely aware of his thigh only inches from her foot as he slouched, long legs sprawled, on the opposite end of the couch.
She could practically feel the heat radiating off him.
Ugh. Wrong distraction.
She flicked a finger at the cars chasing each other on the TV. “Do you drive like this?”
“Hell no!” he chuffed, eyes glued to the screen.
“Is this the kind of action you’re looking for in a different county?
” She still couldn’t wrap her head around Shane wanting to leave Fall River.
No lie, that little revelation had added to her distress tonight.
She hadn’t realized how much she looked forward to seeing him every day, and she didn’t want to think how empty the town would feel without him in it.
“Hardly. I’d end up wrapped around a tree, and that just doesn’t do it for me.”
What does do it for you, Deputy Shane? Maybe a little handcuff action?
Oh, for Gaia’s sake!
She executed an inner eye-roll at herself and scolded her overactive hormones.
Stealing another glance at him—something she’d been doing the entire time they’d been watching the movie—she took in his tall, muscular frame.
He was dressed in red-and-blue-plaid PJ pants and a ridiculously soft long-sleeved tee.
She knew it was soft because she’d had her cheek mashed against it when she’d cried all over him earlier.
She also knew how lean and hard those muscles were beneath the shirt, and her mind had wandered to how his skin would feel beneath her hands.
Gah! Stop looking at him with x-ray eyes! Except … it was helping her scatter her frustration with a certain ex-boyfriend who would not be named.
Lean into it. No one needs to know.
Shane was so much more than mouthwatering muscles and rugged masculine beauty, though.
He was kind, steady, and she’d been grateful to take refuge in his arms. Something about him made her feel …
safe. As if no harm could come to her when she was with him.
Besides her father, she couldn’t remember another man making her feel that way.
Thank the heavens the deputy was a gentleman and he’d pulled away because after spending delicious minutes cradled in his embrace, her thoughts had bloomed into climbing him and repeating that toe-curling kiss. Shane was utterly boneable.
Stop it!
She shouldn’t have been indulging in these thoughts about him. She was no better than other women who drooled over his very fine self. He wasn’t interested in kissing her again anyway. It had been a mistake. He’d said so himself.
Yet there was no use denying that the more time she spent around him, the yummier he looked.
Was it a boomerang rebound thing? If so, she was way out of line.
She’d only moved out of Micky’s this afternoon.
Or had Shane always been so appealing? Watching him stride across her shop always lit her up inside, his gait confident, his smile easy.
The uniform didn’t hurt either, not that she was into uniforms. But the cut of it and how it hung on his body had a way of highlighting all those masculine angles.
She sneaked another peek, hopeful he was so engrossed in the wreckage on the screen that he didn’t notice her covert ogling.
A thought she’d pushed aside earlier jarred her out of her lustful dream state.
How were the sleeping arrangements supposed to work?
It was getting to be that time of night, and her fatigue was catching up to her.
Maybe she could curl up in his armchair while he slept on the bed, but they’d still be in the same room.
That’s okay. You’re safe with him, remember? Yeah, but was he safe with her?
“I can hear you thinking over here,” he mumbled.
Startled, she sat up and looked around, as if appraising his non-existent decor. “Just checking out your digs.” Lame, but at least it derailed her from the one track she’d been chugging along.
And it worked. His head tilted from one side to the other. “I’m not crazy about the old wood paneling. It makes the place feel dark and depressing. There’s really nothing I can do about it, though.”
“What if you hung up some pictures with lighter colors? Or have you already tried that?”
One side of his mouth hitched up. “Not only have I not tried, but the thought’s never occurred to me.” He swung his head toward her. “Maybe you’d be willing to give me some pointers.”
“Me?”
“Your shop always looks so put together.”
She might have preened with pride if the comment hadn’t thrown her off balance.
Micky had always criticized the way she decorated her store.
She should have let it roll off her shoulders, given how his place looked, but she hadn’t been able to let the sting go.
Why was that? Because she wanted him to see her through the whimsy that was her store. Wasted time on a lost cause.
Initially, she’d thrown the decor together based on what she could buy on the cheap, but during the process, a style had emerged that resonated.
Then she’d invited some of the artists in town to use her shop to display their pieces on consignment, and she’d added colorful prints, mosaic tables, metal chairs shaped like flowers or painted in fun, funky colors.
The concept had worked well. Whenever an article sold, the artist showed up with a new one that fit the coffee shop’s vibe. A win-win.
“You really think so?”
“Oh yeah. It’s one of the reasons I love coming in. Well, that and your coffee.” She could have sworn he added, “And you,” under his breath. That was probably wishful thinking on her part.
Her phone chimed with a familiar tone, and she swiped it from where it lay on the cushion beside her, grateful for this new distraction.
Hailey: Hey girl. Taking a quick break at MT and wanted to know how you’re liking the new place.
Amy: Wouldn’t know. Hanging out at Deputy Shane’s apt.
Amy cringed while she waited for Hailey’s reply. She was sure her bestie would give her a virtual kick in the pants for being at a guy’s place after leaving someone else only hours before, and she didn’t have to wait long.
Hailey: Right where you should be! I love that for you.
Amy: ???
Hailey: What? You know it’s where you want to be, and I’m sure DS is glad you’re there. He wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
Amy: There’s only 1 bed!
Hailey: Even better, and probably part of his plan! Joy can write a story with that trope!
Amy: [eye-roll emoji]
Amy: I’m only here because the new place is kinda creepy.
Hailey: If that’s what you need to tell yourself …
Hailey: You do have permission to crawl into DS’s arms … and his sheets. Good way to keep the creepies away. I hear he has a big gun.
Amy: Shut. Up.
Hailey: Go with it, Aims. You deserve this more than anyone I know.
Amy: Way too soon.
Hailey: Not when you’ve been waiting a long time.
Amy: What does that even mean?
Hailey: You’ve been crushing on him forever. You just didn’t know it. Micky was a musical interlude way out of tune. Pretty sure DS feels the same about you, but he’s a good guy who’s never acted on it. Remember, I know things.
Amy almost shot back, I suppose you know about the kiss too?
But her mind ground to a halt, and her thumbs hovered over her phone, waiting on her brain to calibrate and issue the correct response.
Part of her was elated “DS” might like her, while a different part of her was horrified she would even consider hopping from one bed to another.
And yet another part worried “DS” had superpowers that would allow him to read everything she and Hailey were texting.
She was on the verge of asking her friend why she thought the feeling was “mutual,” but a buzzing noise from the end table on Shane’s end of the couch stopped her.
He took his time picking up his phone and looking at the screen.
He slid her a rueful look. “I’m going to step outside to take this. ”
Before she could argue, he had grabbed his parka and was out the door. His footfalls rattled down the steps, and remorse settled over her.
Amy: DS just tore out of here to answer a call. In the cold!
Hailey: He’s SAR. He’s used to cold.
Amy: I should be the one to leave, not him. I’m invading his space and keeping him from taking calls.
She shouldn’t be here, yet the thought of returning to the strangeness of her apartment was enough to immobilize her.
Hailey: Get over yourself and give in. Gotta get back to work. I expect deets in the a.m.
“Ha!” Amy snorted to Vin Diesel, currently growling on the TV. “I feel you, dude.”
Shane interrupted her one-sided conversation when he came crashing back through the door, his russet brows bunched in a furious set. On the screen, a car launched off a bridge and a huge truck burst into a fireball.
“What’s wrong?”
His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing from here,” she mocked.
He yanked off his parka, pegged it, then pointed at her. “You’re not leaving here tonight.”
Confusion swirled inside her. Wasn’t planning to. “Excuse me?”
“Micky’s an ass.”
“I thought we established that already.”
“Yeah, well, we can carve it in stone now.” He plowed his fingers through his short strands. “I’m pouring myself a drink. Want more champagne? I’ve got whiskey too, if you prefer.”
Thoughts were obviously firing off at machine-gun speed in his head, and she told herself to wait and watch instead of trying to keep up with the ping-ponging.
“Um, sure. Champagne sounds good.” She checked her phone—no new texts. Popping up, she trailed after him, covering the few steps to the kitchen, where he pulled down a bottle of whiskey and a tumbler. She touched his shoulder. “Shane?”
He whirled. His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. “He’s an ass,” he repeated.
“Was that him on the phone?”
He nodded. “He wanted—no, he demanded I drive you back to his place tonight. That’s the polite version.”
Warning lights flashed red in her mind. “Does he know I’m here?”
“No. He also doesn’t know where you moved to. Yet.”
But it won’t be long till he finds out. Meanwhile, he can always find me at Mountain Coffee. She shook off the disturbing thought and tuned back into Shane.
He wrenched out the whiskey cork and paused before pouring. Put it aside. Pulled down an old-fashioned glass and lunged for the fridge, where he jerked out her bottle of champagne.
Even in his agitated state, he thought to take care of her first. If she wasn’t already in love with him, she might have fallen the rest of the way that very instant. Maybe Hailey had been on to something after all.
Amy touched him again, lightly on the bicep this time. “What did he say?”’
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just more proof he doesn’t deserve to be on the same planet as you.” He poured a large measure of champagne and thrust the glass at her. “And let me be clear. He never did.”
Her heart fluttered as she placed the glass on the counter and reached up, grabbing his shoulders and turning him to face her.
Funny how they’d reversed roles. While he fumed like a bull gouging a groove in the dirt, she mustered an aura of serenity to wrap herself in.
She hoped she could spread it and pull him in too.
“Hey, look at me. He’s not worth this. Don’t let him take this kind of toll on you. ”
He stared down at her. “I need to go for a run. Whiskey isn’t going to take this edge off.”
What? “Go for a run … now? It’s ten o’clock at night! And I’m pretty sure it’s snowing.”
“I’m pissed as hell, and I need to blow off some steam.”
Maybe Amy’s text exchange with Hailey empowered her, maybe she was giving in to the desire that had been welling inside her, but she moved her hands across Shane’s broad shoulders in a sensual caress. “Then use me to blow off that steam.”
Surprise flared in his nut-brown orbs.
She should have been mortified by her boldness, but somehow, it felt right.
Canting her head, she waited for him to make a move.
When he didn’t, she inched closer, the cloak of serenity tattering as a heady cocktail of anxiety and anticipation brewed inside her.
“Show me your fire, Shane,” she whispered.
As self-doubt ramped up and she deliberated the wisdom of her seduction, she was surrounded by strong arms pulling her close, the scent of pine and leather invading her senses.
His mouth crashed down on hers, taking command, staking a claim that dizzied her.
Where the earlier kiss had started with gentle strokes, this was all need and desire and heat that transported her into a world where fire licked through her veins and set every nerve ablaze.
Her head swam with sensation and endless possibilities, a confusing, glorious kaleidoscope without cohesion.
She hooked her arms around his neck while he plundered her mouth, his big hands moving across her shoulder blades, sweeping down to the small of her back, pressing as they went, as if mapping her contours.
The sound of more explosions against the backdrop of a thumping soundtrack buzzed.
Was that her hammering heart or the movie?
Shane pulled back, and her breathing stalled. Sanity had probably overtaken him, and he was going to stop this whirl-a-gig of desire while she was still in its dizzying throes.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy, matching her own. “Amy?” His voice cracked.
She stared up at him, able only to conjure his name. “Shane?”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Should we be doing this?”
“I don’t know. It feels a little … wicked.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, his smoldering gaze lowering to her mouth. “Maybe we need to pump the brakes.”
His mouth said one thing, but his eyes sent a completely different message. She bit her bottom lip under their weight, and lust flashed in their depths. He wanted her.
Hope and a fresh wave of desire surged inside her, and she ran with it. “What I do know is you rock my world with your kisses. If that makes me wicked, so be it because I want more of it. Now.”